Take Back the Skies (6 page)

‘I asked her to marry me as soon as it was respectable – wasn't going to let her get away!' Harry said. ‘When my dad died, I inherited this little beauty, and we made it our own. Had a few issues when the war began – we lost half our crew to the army, and the other half to their families. Wasn't so bad back under King Christopher's reign, gods bless his soul. No rations, no need for us to smuggle. We carried supplies out to the soldiers in Siberene, since it was easy for us to pass the storm barriers. When the monarchy went, well … Collections and rationing began, and we became a little less reputable. People were starving, and it felt wrong not to help. We picked up Fox about six years ago.'

Fox remained silent, unwilling to volunteer any further information. ‘Benny a year later,' Harry continued, ‘and Matt followed within six months, making enough of a crew to let the old boys go. Couldn't bear to be apart, these two,' he teased, elbowing Matt in the side.

‘Benny and I grew up in Stratton,' Matt explained in response to Catherine's confused look. ‘We lived next door to each other, went to the same school, did everything together. I was doing an apprenticeship at Tinker's when Ben got the offer to fly for Harry, and had to finish up my contract before I could leave and join him. Wasn't going to let him have all the adventures without me, was I?'

Catherine was impressed; Tinker's was a very prestigious
mechanics company – her father had shares in it. Its workers practically maintained the docklands single-handedly now, though they were spread too thin to use their expertise on other things, such as the tram system. Matt must have been the best of the best to get an apprenticeship there.

‘And you, Fox?' she tried, turning to the freckled teen beside her. Fox's shoulders tensed, and he stood abruptly, not meeting Catherine's eyes.

‘If you'll all excuse me, I've got work to do before bed,' he announced quietly, not waiting for a reply before leaving the galley, the door swinging shut behind him.

‘What did I say?' Catherine asked, hurt.

Alice reached over and patted her on the shoulder, offering a smile.

‘Nothing, dear. Fox just doesn't like talking about himself. He's had a bit of a rough past,' she confessed, making Catherine bite her lip.

‘I'm sorry, I … I didn't know.'

‘Of course you didn't, lad. That's why you were asking,' Matt remarked. ‘You wouldn't have asked if you had known it would set him off like that. He's a mite sensitive, is our Fox.'

Catherine shrugged, still feeling guilty, but the movement was cut off by a yawn. Her belly full, it was finally beginning to hit her how tired she was. Suddenly, the thought of her new bed down the hall was all too inviting.

‘If I'm excused, I think I'll head to bed. It's … been a long day,' she said ruefully, and Matt chuckled.

‘Running away from Greystone and stowing on a skyship?
I'll bet. Goodnight, brat, I'll expect you down in the engines after breakfast.'

She nodded, standing.

‘I'll be there. Thank you for the meal, Alice, it was lovely.'

Alice smiled at the compliment, piling Catherine's empty bowl on top of the others.

‘You're very welcome, poppet. Breakfast is at seven – there should be a clock in your room. Either way, Fox will wake you up, if he's not still in that foul mood of his.'

Saying her goodnights, Catherine left the galley thankful to have been accepted by at least most of the crew. Fox's door was firmly closed and while Catherine was tempted to knock, she didn't dare.

Opening the door to her own new room, she sat down on the bed to unlace her boots. Placing them neatly aside, she stowed her purse away in one of the desk drawers and turned to the bed, not wanting to undress any further. She'd definitely give away her gender if one of the crew walked in on her in her undergarments. Sleeping in the clothes she'd been wearing all day might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, but she'd make do for one night.

There was a grubby mirror bolted to her wardrobe door, and she took the chance to get a proper look at herself, astonished by how much of a boy she looked with her hair cut short. It came down to just below her ears – a little longer than the current style, but nothing she hadn't seen on boys before. Fox was right, though; she definitely looked closer to twelve than fourteen. And she didn't look like Catherine any more. ‘I look like Cat,' she murmured, staring at her unfamiliar appearance.

Slipping under the thick fur blanket, she curled up tight on the comfortable mattress, her brain racing. In just a few short hours she'd gone from Catherine Hunter, daughter of Nathaniel Hunter and future wife of Marcus Gale, to Just Cat, skyship dogsbody.

She had to admit, she preferred the latter.

Cat woke when a hand shook her shoulder. She blinked and squinted up at the face looming above her. She squawked as she realised Fox was standing over her bed, staring at her in amusement as she instinctively pulled the blanket up to her chin.

‘Easy, there. It's half past six. I thought you might want to be up for breakfast. Also, Alice left these outside your room.' He held up a sack which Cat assumed was full of clothes. ‘You'll get used to waking in the dark – if you had a proper porthole, you'd be getting sunrise at four in the morning,' he remarked, glancing up at the small porthole in the wall over her desk, which glowed dimly with the morning light.

Cat growled at the prospect of such an early hour, making Fox chuckle.

‘I'll see you at breakfast. Don't take too long, or Matt will have eaten your serving.' With that he left, the room becoming silent save for the faint hiss of steam through the pipes in the walls, and the rhythmic chugging of the propellers, prompting her to realise her room was towards the stern of the ship.

She dug through the sack of clothes. Clearly Fox's style hadn't changed much since he was her age; smart collared shirts, waistcoats, trousers, knitted jumpers and buckled
leather coats, and even a long winter overcoat and a pair of sturdy knee-high boots similar to the ones he wore now. She grinned to herself, imagining she'd look rather like his miniature once she was dressed, except for her brown hair, of course.

She picked out some black trousers, which were baggy on her, as well as a dark blue shirt and a black leather waistcoat. Buckling the heavy boots over sock-clad feet, Cat gave herself a once-over in the mirror to check she looked suitably boyish. It was odd, not getting ready for worship at the end of the week. Did the crew even observe Anglyan religion? Maybe she would ask some time, if she grew brave enough. She crossed the corridor to the galley, where the noise drifting from the open door told her she was the last one to arrive.

‘Morning. Did you sleep well?' Alice asked as she entered. ‘I know some people can't sleep when the ship rocks, but we had quite a smooth flight last night. We shouldn't hit the Siberene storm barriers for another few days or so yet.'

Cat stretched her arms out as she sat, hearing her shoulders pop. Harry was absent, and Cat presumed he was on shift.

‘I slept like a log, thank you. Thanks,' she added gratefully as a bowl of porridge was placed in front of her. Reaching past Ben for the pot of honey on the table, she poured in a small amount and mixed the golden liquid into the thick porridge. ‘Does it usually take so long to get to the barriers?'

‘Not usually, but we like to take our time. If we work too efficiently, the guards will start getting suspicious. Besides,
Harry thought you might like a few days to settle in before we bring you into the business,' Alice explained. Cat raised her eyebrows, pleased and surprised at their thoughtfulness.

‘Ready for a hard day's work, sprog?' Matt asked.

‘Always,' she replied.

‘That's the spirit. We got a little battered last trip, and some of the plates are sticking. Nothing serious,' he added in response to Alice's worried look. ‘We'll have it fixed no problem. Ben, just do your best to keep us out of the worst of it, if you can.'

Ben smiled, his brown eyes meeting Matt's gaze confidently.

‘Sure. There's a relatively clear patch to the West that we should be able to squeeze through, if it's still around when we get there. Besides, when have you known me to fly us into a rough patch?'

Matt merely raised an eyebrow, bringing a faint flush to Ben's pale cheeks.

‘Where are we going, anyway?' Cat blurted out without thinking. ‘I mean, I know we're headed to Siberene, but … how do you manage to smuggle goods in without being noticed? I know Siberene isn't particularly involved in the war, but surely there are Anglyan guards at every shipyard,' she said. It was customary to have Anglyan soldiers present in every country under Anglyan rule, to monitor trading.

Her question earned a shared look from everyone in the crew, giving her the impression she was missing something.

‘What?'

‘He'll learn when we get there. It'll be easier to explain then,' Fox said from across the table.

‘What will I learn? What's going on in Siberene?'

Matt smiled at her, somewhat apologetically.

‘You'll see when we get there, sprog. Just … remember that things aren't always what they seem, and the newscasts don't always tell the whole truth.' His statement only served to confuse Cat, who looked around the table for clarification. When they all stayed stone-faced under her gaze, she gave up and went back to eating the last of her porridge.

‘I'd better go and relieve Harry,' Ben declared, getting to his feet.

‘You coming, then?' Matt asked with a glance at Cat. Standing, he leaned down to press a kiss to Alice's cheek. ‘Delicious as always, sweetheart. I'll see you for lunch.'

Alice tutted.

‘You and your stomach, Matthew Wylde,' she muttered fondly. ‘Go on, the lot of you. You've got work to do. We'll need to have something to show for ourselves at Syvana.'

Cat followed Matt from the room and down the manhole to the floor below.

‘I'll start you off with the basics,' Matt told her, leading her through to the engine room. ‘Most of the steering system's parts are kept here.' He gestured to a large gear plate with a clear glass casing, right next to the furnace, and Cat almost groaned. She couldn't remove any more layers than she had already or she'd give herself away, but the heat was sweltering. ‘They connect to belts that run through the walls, from the struts of the wings to Ben's control panel. The propeller motors are over there.' He pointed across the room, where Cat could see four large cog towers, one of which was rotating.

‘What do you do if one of the belts in the walls breaks?' she asked curiously.

‘Send a wee brat like you in the gaps to fix it,' he retorted.

‘But surely I wouldn't fit!' Her eyes widened, making him chuckle.

‘Calm down, brat, I'm only joking.' Matt rolled his eyes, amused. ‘You Greystone lot are an odd bunch. Always taking things so seriously.' Cat tried to look offended at his words. With any luck, her so-called Greystone background would account for any other oddities they might notice. Most folk thought people from Greystone were strange, in an odd limbo between the commoners and the government.

She heard a creak, and Fox walked through the door. Unbuttoning his waistcoat, he draped it over a low-hanging pipe, rolling his flared sleeves up to his elbows.

Matt was grinning.

‘Come to give us a hand, Fox? Better than sitting around doing sod all, I suppose.'

‘Yeah,' Fox agreed, moving to stand beside Cat. ‘But why don't we let the sprog give it a go. See how good he is.' Cat huffed at the raised eyebrow Fox directed at her, her eyes slipping to the small triangle of exposed skin at the base of his throat.

‘He's good enough,' Matt assured Fox. ‘But go on, then, Cat. See if you can find the problem.' He handed her the screwdriver.

Sweating uncomfortably, she turned to the encased gear plate. First, she unhooked the casing, eyes scanning the ordered entanglement of cogs, sprockets and chains. Before she could get too engrossed she was startled by a loud
metallic clang, followed by a short bark of laughter. When she turned, Matt was rubbing his forehead and scowling at a steam pipe protruding a few inches from the ceiling.

‘Every bloody time,' he grumbled, and Cat suppressed a laugh, meeting Fox's amused gaze.

‘You'll get used to that,' he told her. ‘Five years, and Matt still can't remember which parts are lower than others.'

Cat smiled at Matt's sheepish look and turned back to her work. At first, everything seemed to be working normally … until she noticed a stretched link on one of the chains, which caused a bit of jarring when it passed between two gears.

‘You need to change that chain. Is there a replacement in here or next door?' she asked, turning her head. She was surprised to see that Fox had stripped to his undershirt and was working on tightening an overhead piston. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to ignore the sight of his tensed biceps. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach, which was quickly replaced by a feeling of dread. She'd heard other girls talk about that type of feeling at the government school she'd attended, and in her current situation, it didn't bode well. No, she decided, this was just not the time. She had to act like a boy.

‘Nice eye, lad,' Matt said, rummaging in a box and handing her the correct chain, clearly unaware of her current dilemma. ‘You'll have to be quick about it, though. We can't have the steering offline for more than a few seconds.'

‘No pressure or anything,' Fox piped up wryly, ruining her hopes of ignoring him. Cat turned back to the gear plate, staring at the chain. It was awfully long, and the top was hooked to a gear very high up.

‘I'm not sure if I can reach,' she admitted, standing on tiptoe and stretching up to test.